


Sister, Sister

by marinaalexis



Category: Pretty Little Liars
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-19
Updated: 2016-12-21
Packaged: 2018-06-09 08:19:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6898207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marinaalexis/pseuds/marinaalexis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In Rosewood, appearance is everything. It's not like there's an official competition or anything. But everyone knows that if you want to get anywhere in this town, you'd better play the game. My sister chose to play a different game. Now things are spiraling out of control, and if I want to keep my darkest secret, I'd better play, too.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

In Rosewood, appearance is everything.

Everything revolves around who has the best job, who has the biggest purse, who has the most expensive car. It’s not like there’s an official competition or anything. But everyone knows that if you want to get anywhere in this town, you’d better play the game.

That’s why everything, including valedictorian of the senior class and manager position of every business, can be bought. That’s why girls are willing to spend four hundred dollars for one hair appointment, and some of the boys are, too.

That’s why I am doing my makeup at five thirty in the morning.

But I guess I can’t complain. I mean, I’ve known how this town works pretty much since I was in kindergarten and half the class showed up with Louis Vuitton backpacks. I could choose not to participate in the ridiculousness. 

And yet, here I am. Five thirty. Doing my makeup.

It’s kind of strange, actually, because my parents are possibly some of the only people in Rosewood who don’t really care about appearance. Sure, we’re relatively rich, like everyone else, and we have expensive clothes and furniture and everything you’re supposed to have. But when I was in fourth grade they let me get bright pink braces instead of clear, almost invisible ones, like all the other kids had. And they let my older sister wear glasses and pigtails and be labeled the biggest loser in school for years before she finally wised up on her own the summer before this one.

I probably would have been a loser, too, if I hadn’t gotten lucky. Somehow I ended up with twenty-twenty vision (lucky), braces that were only necessary for six months (lucky), and a sense of fashion that is certainly not genetic (lucky). So far in my short high school life, I haven’t seemed to stick out.

Anywhere else that might seem pretty depressing. But in Rosewood, that’s really all you can ask for.

I stick the cap back on my tube of eyeliner and evaluate my reflection. Out of all days, the first day of school is probably one of the most important. After all, you have to prove to everyone that you didn’t either become poor or nerdy over the summer.

I turn my head from side to side, trying to decide if my eye makeup is even but getting distracted by the glint of my earrings in the process. 

“Hey.” There is a knock on my bedroom door and I spot my sister through the mirror. Her name is Mona. I think my parents should have named me Lisa, but I guess they have more common sense than I do because they named me Viola instead. “What do you think?” She holds out her arms so I can get a look at her outfit.

I swivel around and stare for a moment. “You look fine. I’m pretty sure that’s my necklace, but whatever.” Apparently older sisters have free reign of their younger sisters’ closets. But God forbid I try to exercise the same right.

I turn back to the mirror and plug in my hair straightener. I already straightened it last night, but it got a little messy overnight. Having even slightly imperfect hair is unacceptable at Rosewood High School.

It’s probably obvious that I’m a little bitter about all of this.

“So what’s sophomore year like?” I ask, grabbing a section of my hair and narrowly avoiding burning my finger. “Is it hard?”

“Oh, it depends. It was for me, but probably not for, like, Spencer Hastings.” I roll my eyes. Mona likes to pretend that she is not a genius with an IQ that is higher than mine. It probably has something to do with the fact that “Loser Mona” was smart so now she can’t be. 

But I’ll still take pride in my straight A’s, thank you.

“It’s been a year, you know,” my sister says abruptly, her voice a little lower but still pretty casual.

I spit a bobby pin out of my mouth and let my stick straight hair fall back around my shoulders. “A year since…” I begin to question, but the realization hits me halfway through the sentence so the last word of “when” turns into “Alison.”

Alison DiLaurentis. Even just her name sends a chill up my spine, for various reasons. One reason is that she was the queen bee of Rosewood High School before I was even a student there. Heck, she was probably queen bee of Rosewood before she was a student there. With long, blond hair, light blue eyes, and the strange ability to make any article of clothing look amazing on her, Alison had the potential to be a real bitch.

And oh, did she live up to that potential. I knew the myths about Alison DiLaurentis way before I had ever seen her in person: She had three fake IDs. She had an older college boyfriend…in Europe. She could make anyone popular. Anyone.

She could also ruin the life of anyone she chose. And she chose Mona.

For all of middle school and the start of high school, Alison made my sister’s life basically a living hell. Starting nasty rumors, creating nicknames, and turning the whole school against her were some of the highlights. She spent the majority of three years crying in her room. My mom used words like “depression” and “professional help” and even, once, “police report,” though I’m not too sure what that was all about because I was eavesdropping.

It was horrible. It was also the reason why I made it my personal goal to be perfect. There’s nothing to make fun of about girls who are perfect, and there was no way that I was going to be Alison’s next target. 

The second reason that even the sound of her name gives me a chill is because not only was Alison a major bitch, she was such a major bitch that apparently some one had enough and killed her.

It happened last summer, right before the start of her sophomore year and my official introduction to high school. According to facts, she was at a sleepover at the Hastings’ barn with her four best friends, Spencer, Aria, Hanna, and Emily. Sometime during the night, when everyone was sleeping, she disappeared. No one has seen or heard from her since. Since no one ever found a body, they can’t officially say that she’s dead. But everyone knows.

There are about a million rumors about who killed her and why. But they all seem a little far-fetched to me. I don’t know how she died, or if she even is dead, and I don’t really care. After what she did to my sister and countless other people (nicknaming a boy in her class “Hermie” just might top the list), I’m just glad that I don’t have to worry about bumping into her anymore.

I yank the cord to my straightener out of the wall and now actually do burn my finger. I grimace. “I don’t want to talk about Alison. I’m just glad that I get to enjoy most of high school without her posse ruling the school.”

Mona sighs and walks back out of my room. “Do you need a ride?” she calls over her shoulder. I know that the only reason she asked is because she got her license just a few weeks ago and she is very excited about it.

“No, Macy’s mom is picking me up.” Macy Littleton is my best friend. Well, I call her my best friend, but we’re really not that close. Not many people in Rosewood are. We generally seek out the people most like ourselves and cling to them in hopes that we won’t get shafted into the sea of outcasts and losers.

Ten minutes later, I toss my dark hair over my shoulders, grab my purse, and take a deep breath. A whole new year at Rosewood High School is about to begin.

…

Macy’s mom talks nonstop the whole drive to school. Are you ready for school, what classes are you taking, do you girls have classes together, have you had a good summer? I’m not even really sure where to jump in because there are so many questions to start with.

We’re pulling into the drop off area, already filled with parents’ BMWs and Mercedes, when Macy hits me on the shoulder and points. “Hey, isn’t that Aria Montgomery?”

I follow her gaze out the window. A girl with wavy, dark brown hair and big eyes is climbing out of a dark blue minivan. I squint and very vaguely recognize her. “Looks like it. They must be back from Iceland.”

Aria Montgomery was one of Alison’s best friends. Her family moved away to Iceland very soon after “that night.” Last time I saw her, she had pink streaks in her hair and carried a pig puppet around in her backpack. She was what most students called “artsy,” though that was probably only because she was Alison’s friend. 

Now the pink streaks and the pig puppet are both gone. Macy and I watch as Aria disappears through the front doors of the school. “Have a good day, girls,” Mrs. Littleton calls to us as we scamper out of her mini Cooper. 

I admire all of the new clothes and new hairstyles as we enter the main hallway and go looking for our new lockers. I’m suddenly glad that I decided to wear a leather miniskirt – it seems like half of the school is wearing the same one.

“Hey, Viola.” Hanna Marin passes me, waggling her fingers in my direction.

“Hey,” I call back to her, smiling. Hanna is Mona’s best friend. She was part of Alison’s clique back when she was chubby and only wore baggy t-shirts. Somehow the two of them bonded the summer Alison disappeared, and showed up the following school year as the new queen bees of the school. I was there to witness the whole transformation and even I was shocked.

Macy laughs and grabs my arm. “You are so lucky that your sister is, like, the most popular girl in school. Even the other popular juniors know you!”

I roll my eyes. Macy is way more concerned with popularity than I am. Her goal is to be at the top of the social hierarchy by the time we’re seniors. My goal is to make good grades and not be on anyone’s bullying radar. That’s one reason why we’re not that close. “Hanna’s like family,” I tell her. “She practically lived at my house over the summer.”

“And you don’t understand how lucky you are?” she demands, finding her locker and spinning the combination. 

“No.” I open my own locker, just a few down from hers, and begin piling in my new binders and notebooks. “Hey,” I change the subject, “who do you have for study hall?”

Macy pulls out her crumpled class schedule and consults it. “Mrs. Carlino. Why?”

“I have Mr. Fitz. I’ve never even heard that name,” I complain. 

Her eyes light up and she slams her locker shut, glancing around conspiratorially. “Mr. Fitz? Oh my god, that’s the new junior English teacher. I heard he’s so hot.” She shakes her head in mock disgust. “God, this must be, like, the best day of your life.”

I wouldn’t exactly go that far, but the idea that at least one of my teachers is cute does brighten things up a little. “Well, I’ll tell you one thing.” I sling my purse over my shoulder and link arms with her. “This is our second year with no Alison DiLaurentis and her reign of terror, so it’s going to be great no matter what.”

I’m wrong, but I don’t know it yet.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember when I said I was going to update this regularly? Haha. Ha. Sorry. Updates will be frequent now, I promise!

Chapter 2

 

 “A new development in the case of missing teenager Alison DiLaurentis occurred last night. A body, assumed to be Alison’s, was found by workers during construction in the backyard of the house previously owned by the DiLaurentises. The house’s new owners, who prefer to remain unnamed at this time, have no comment. But with this new discovery, it is likely that the Alison DiLaurentis case will change from a missing person investigation to a murder investigation.”

My eyes are glued to the television. I’m so absorbed in the news report that when I raise my bite of cereal, the spoon nearly misses my mouth. The rumors of Alison running off to France or going to live a new life as a criminal can finally be put to rest.

Alison is dead.

“Turn that off,” Mona snaps, walking into the kitchen and taking a handful of nuts from the bowl on the counter, the only thing she ever seems to eat anymore. “Please.”

I scowl but grab the remote, and the screen goes black. I’m getting a little sick of this. Sometime during her transformation from loser to queen bee, Mona turned into what I would call a Pretty Major Bitch. As far as I know, she has not yet caused anyone to use words like “professional help,” so at least that’s something. But sometimes I do miss the glasses and dorky clothes.

“Can you believe she’s really dead?” I ask, slurping the rest of the milk out of my cereal bowl and carrying it over to the sink. “I mean, we all kind of already knew that she was, but it’s so…official, now.”

“You’re right,” she says, but then raises an eyebrow at me. “We did all already know.”

I lean my elbows against the counter and try to ignore that. “Are you going to the funeral?” Now that there’s a body, there can be a funeral, which is happening tomorrow afternoon. Apparently the DiLaurentis family wants to get it over with as soon as possible.

“Of course not,” Mona scoffs. “Maybe you’ve forgotten that she spent years trying to ruin my life?”

“No,” I say defensively, fidgeting in my seat a little. “I just thought…I don’t know, closure, I guess.”

“I got over Alison DiLaurentis a long time ago,” she snaps, flipping her hair back and stomping off. It doesn’t really sound like it to me, but then again, I’m not in her brain and I am thankful every day for that.

I’m not going to the funeral either, I decide later that day as I do my first geometry homework of the year. I never really knew Alison. And Mona may be a Pretty Major Bitch now, but she’s still my sister so I have to have some amount of sympathy, and anyway, Alison was worse.

There will be plenty of people at the funeral, I’m sure. Alison was popular, even in death. Some people will probably show up just to make sure that her ghost doesn’t come after them or something.

Good thing I don’t believe in ghosts.

…

I’m walking to lunch the Monday after the funeral when I hear my name over the announcements. “Viola Vanderwaal, please report to the main office.”

I like my first name, and I like my last name, but I’ve realized over the years that they sound pretty stupid together. I’m not sure why my parents decided to give me a first name that starts with the same letter as my last. Maybe it was trendy at the time or something, but I don’t like being one of those matchy people. It sounds even stupider when it’s announced to the whole school.

Apparently the reason I was called to the office is for something more serious than a question about my transcript or a note from my mom, because as soon as I walk through the door the secretary ushers me into Vice Principal Hackett’s office.

I’m not really alarmed until I walk in and see what appears to be two FBI agents waiting for me. “Miss Vanderwaal?” one asks, reaching to shake my hand. When I nod, she says, “Take a seat.”

“What’s going on?” I ask shakily, dropping my bag on the ground and sitting down on the old, dusty couch. Hackett is nowhere in sight.

“Nothing to be worried about,” the same agent says. “We just need to ask you a few questions.”

“What? Do I need to call my mother?” I don’t know a lot about anything legal, but I do know that generally FBI agents cannot burst in and start asking you questions without your parents being there.

“That’s not necessary,” the male officer tells me sharply, reaching back to push the door to the office closed. “We’re investigating the death of Alison DiLaurentis and we just have a few questions.”

I am both glad that this has nothing to do with me directly and confused that out of all of the people in this school, I’m the one that they choose to talk to. “I didn’t even know Alison,” I protest, noticing that as I speak, the male agent writes on a legal pad.

“Don’t worry. We’re talking to anyone who might have had any sort of connection to the DiLaurentis family,” the woman drones, clearly bored with my questions and ready to get to some of her own.

But I’m not sure _I’m_ ready for that. “But that’s what I’m saying. I never knew Alison. I spoke to her maybe once or twice back when we were in middle school, but she went missing before I started high school.”

“ _You_ may not have had direct contact with Alison DiLaurentis, but we have reason to believe that your sister did. Is that correct?”

This makes me feel a little better – my family had this conversation with the Rosewood police after Alison went missing – but I still squirm in my seat. I hope I have enough time to eat lunch once this is over. “Uh, yeah. I mean, Alison kind of bullied her for a couple years.”

“We have on file that what went on between the two was a little more than your standard case of bullying,” the man pipes up, still writing furiously on his pad. I’m waiting for him to go on, but both agents look up and stare right at me.

“Oh. Well, um, I guess. I don’t know, my sister didn’t really…tell me much. But I think it was just, you know, name calling, rumors, stuff like that.”

The woman sits back against Hackett’s desk and crosses her arms, looking at me with greater interest than I think I deserve. She taps her pen against the desk for a moment, sighs, then says, “You don’t think she would have…done anything to Alison, do you? As revenge?”

“ _What?_ ” I gasp. Mona is five feet tall on the dot. The image of her whacking Alison over the head is so funny to me that I have to hold back a laugh. “No! No, absolutely not. No.” I sneak a look at the clock and see that the lunch period is nearly over. My stomach grumbles and I stand, grabbing my purse. “Look, if you have any more questions, you’ll need to ask my sister. I really don’t know anything more.” Before they can stop me, I push out the door and back into the main office.

I stop in my tracks. The four seats outside the vice principal’s office are filled. Aria, Spencer, Hanna, and Emily sit in a row, clearly the next victims of the FBI agents’ questioning. “Hey guys,” I say, giving them a smile.

Spencer doesn’t beat around the bush. “Viola, what’s going on? There’s a cop car outside.”

I glance behind me to make sure the secretary isn’t listening, then step closer to them and say quietly, “Two FBI agents are here. They said they’re questioning everyone who might know anything about Alison’s death.”

“What?” Aria leans forward in her chair. “We already talked to the police when Ali went missing.”

“Yeah, but now they know that someone killed her,” I whisper. The door behind me opens, and I jump and rush out of the office before I’m called back.

…

I’ve been taking gymnastics lessons since I was four years old. It’s not that I love it or have dreams to win an Olympic medal or anything. But it’s not completely horrible and I’m pretty good at it by now, so why stop going?

Every week, I go to a two hour group class. We always start out with a half hour of stretching. For the past three years, my partner for this has been a blond girl named Elizabeth who is much better than I am. So it’s a pretty big surprise when she’s not in class.

“Viola,” the instructor, a tall woman named Beth, calls, jogging across the large room to me. “Elizabeth broke her ankle over the weekend. She won’t be in class for a good few months.”

I stare at her, open-mouthed. If an incredible gymnast like Elizabeth can break an ankle, I don’t even want to think about the injuries that I could possibly sustain. “Wait, if she’s gone, who am I going to work with?”

“Justin’s partner is out today, too. You can partner with him.” Beth waves over one of the three guys in this class. I’ve never spoken to him, but I can’t say that I haven’t noticed him. It’s hard not to notice a guy who is tall, muscular, and about three times more attractive than anyone else in the room.

He walks over, nodding at me, and I suddenly become aware that what little gymnastic skills I previously had are all going to go out the window today. “Hey,” he says as Beth jogs to the front of the room to start class.

“Hey.” I smile, working hard to keep my eyes on his.

“So…” He pauses, and I wonder for an insane moment if he’s actually going to ask me out after a mere two words. “You want to go first?”

It takes a second to dawn on me that he is talking about sit-ups. I hope my face isn’t as red as it feels. “Oh. Uh, sure. That’s fine.”

I lay on my back on one of the blue mats spread around the edges of the room, folding my arms across my chest, and Justin kneels in front of me, pressing his hands down on my feet to keep them in place. “You’re not from around here, are you?” he asks.

“Brookhaven?” I ask, pulling myself up to my knees and dropping down again. After years and years of this, I barely even get out of breath anymore. “Uh, no. I live, like, ten minutes away. In Rosewood.”

“Rosewood?” He pulls away and I fall back, grimacing when my head hits the mat. “Crap, sorry. But isn’t that the town where some girl’s body was found a few days ago?”

I finish my fifty sit-ups and slide back. We switch positions and he starts the exercise, about twice as fast as I had been and not out of breath one bit. “Yeah,” I confirm. “Alison. She was a year older than me.”

“I saw a news report on it,” Justin explains, finally having to huff a bit to get the words out. “Pretty crazy stuff. Do you think someone actually killed her?”

“I mean, I guess so. How else could she have ended up in a hole in the ground?” I ask, sitting back as he finishes his sit-ups. I sit cross-legged on the mat beside him and glance around. We appear to be the only people who are done.

Justin wipes his brow on his arm. I try not to stare. “I wonder if they’ll ever figure out who did it. The reporter said she went missing a year ago?”

“Yep.” I am ready to be finished with this conversation. Practically the whole reason I came to class today is because it seems like all anyone in Rosewood can talk about is Ali’s murder. I was hoping that the news hadn’t yet spread to the neighboring towns, but obviously I was wrong. “They found her body right when things were starting to quiet down again.”

By this point, most of the other groups have finished stretching, and Beth calls out for us to roll up the mats. “Well, I’ll tell you one thing,” Justin mutters to me, grabbing a corner of our mat. “Rosewood sounds like a pretty interesting place.”

I roll my eyes and grab the other side. “You have no idea.”


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3 

I decided when I was twelve that the most extensive birthday party I will ever want is a sleepover with three friends, tops, and maybe a shopping trip with Mom.

It’s been three years and that hasn’t changed.

I probably wasn’t self-conscious enough at the time to realize it, but now I’m sure that the reason I decided that was because everyone else seems to feel the exact opposite. Forget the specialty of a “sweet sixteen.” In Rosewood, _every_ birthday is “sweet.”

It’s only a few months into the school year, and already in the sophomore class, there have been two huge dance club parties, the entire bowling arena has been rented out three times, and even a huge bash on a _yacht._ All including catering and some not-so-secret alcohol, naturally. I went to all of them and honestly, none of them were that great.

Thankfully my birthday isn’t until March, when most of the party craziness has started to die down. It’s mostly the kids with earlier birthdays who throw the biggest parties, to try and impress everyone else. By the time the second semester rolls around, most people are just trying to survive and no one cares who else is having a huge celebration (as long as they can still have one, of course).

I wish I could say that Mona felt the same way. But I think it’s pretty obvious by now that we are not very similar.

Last year, her party was in a huge ballroom and we all had to wear formal dresses and eat very small portions of food. So apparently this year she has decided to go completely in the opposite direction. She is having her seventeenth birthday party in the woods. Camping. Or “glamping,” which doesn’t sound like a real thing.

I’m going, of course. Actually I’m the only sophomore invited, and I’m not allowed to invite anyone else in my class because that would be socially unacceptable. So, since I’m not really friends with anyone in the junior class, I’m already prepared to have a horrible time.

But I’m not as bad a sister as I sound. As soon as Mona walks downstairs the day of the party, I grab her and scream, “Happy birthday!” The two cups of coffee I’ve already had this morning don’t hurt.

“You’re sweet.” She smiles and pulls away. “Okay. How psyched are you for tonight?”

I consider whether I have the heart to tell her the truth and decide that I don’t. So I try to be kind when I say, “Yeah, it’ll be fun. I’m not sure who I’m going to hang out with, though.”

She looks at me like I am the dumbest person who has ever walked the earth. “Um, me, of course?”

I return the look. She can’t be serious. The only reason she invited me to her party in the first place is because Mom made her. “You seriously want to spend most of your birthday party with _me?_ You’re kidding.”

Mona laughs and says cheerfully, “Of course I don’t! But I need somebody to be my mini me and make sure everything gets done, right?”

I should have known there would be a catch. “Why me? What about Hanna?”

Her face darkens. “Hanna was uninvited. That bitch is dead to me.”

Oh. I can’t believe I forgot. Just a few days ago, some blocked number sent Mona a text just to tell her that during the summer they both made themselves over, Hanna got liposuction to lose all the weight she did instead of dieting or exercising. The text was only signed by “A,” which I guess means anonymous.

Anyway, I generally don’t believe things that are told to me through mysterious anonymous text messages, but Mona took this as a complete personal offense, because she spent that entire summer eating practically nothing even though she’s always been a stick. And now she’s no longer friends with Hanna.

You’d think that’s the sort of thing I would remember, but for some reason I chose to spend the past few days focusing on a big geometry test instead of my sister’s stupid drama.

My priorities are obviously very screwed up.

And now this party is looking more unappealing than before. I think I would rather spend the night sulking on a tree stump by myself than trailing Mona around, watching her scream at the caterers, because she generally turns into more of a psycho than usual during any kind of event.

But it’s her birthday and I don’t want to be _too_ rude, so I force a smile on my face and say, “Great. I can’t wait.”

…

My job is to make sure all of the guests get signed up for a time to get their hair blown out, which is only one of the many tents scattered around the campsite. I’ve only seen one girl come out so far, and the results were not pretty. I think I’ll pass.

The party started about twenty minutes ago and there are already over fifty people here. There are big tents with basically everything you could find in a spa, smaller tents for people to sleep in overnight, and tables filled with desserts. I’m starting to finally understand what “glamping” means now.

Once all the guests have received their “swag bags” (which makes me laugh), and been signed up to get blown (which makes me laugh harder), I wrench Mona away from yelling at some poor member of the catering staff who dared eat a cookie and go to sit on one of the tree stumps. There are some juniors around me, talking about things I don’t understand and people I don’t know, and I am completely ignored.

An hour later, I get a little bored of playing games on my phone and stand up, adjusting my blue tank top. People are getting a little drunker and a lot louder, but I don’t feel like joining in. I had one beer about half an hour ago and it somehow only made me more aware of all the mosquito bites I’m getting.

The woods loom all around the campsite, looking dark and a little scary. But I decide that being around a bunch of drunk juniors I don’t know is scarier, so I grab a flashlight from a table nearby and plunge in.

It only takes a few minutes of walking before most of the sound from the party has been drained out by the heavy leaves. It’s getting late, and the cool October air is making it cold. After only about ten minutes, I have goose bumps all over my arms and I’m thinking about turning around and finding my way back to the party. The silence has made my headache go away and I think I can stand the rest of the night now.

Before I can turn back, something to my left catches my eye. It’s two beams of light, completely visible in the otherwise total darkness. Though the two circles are way bigger than my flashlight, I figure it’s just a few other kids, probably making out or more. But I push a few branches aside anyway, curious, and find myself near a clearing beside the park.

And the two bright lights are not flashlights. They’re headlights, which makes sense because there’s a dark blue car parked in the clearing, where I’m pretty sure a car is not supposed to be parked. The lights are not on in the car, but I can make out two dark figures, kissing.

“Of course,” I mutter, rolling my eyes, but the mystery of why they needed to drive a car here to make out is interesting enough to keep me moving. I creep a little closer, cautiously pushing branches and leaves out of my way until I’m just a few yards away from the side of the car. I click my flashlight off and squint.

I can make out the side of one face. It’s Aria. Of course. She probably snuck away from the party with Noel Kahn, who she’s been dating for a few weeks. I don’t blame her. Out of all the guys at our school, including even the seniors, he’s by far the hottest.

But something still doesn’t make sense. Both Aria and Noel came to Mona’s party. Where did the car come from? And why is it all the way on the other side of the woods?

Then the guy in the car turns partially away from Aria, and I gasp so loudly that I’m sure they both hear me. I duck down behind the bush I’m hiding behind, my hand over my mouth.

Mr. Fitz?

For some reason my brain shuts off for a few seconds and I can’t comprehend why Aria would be in a car with her English teacher and my study hall supervisor. Why would he even be here in the first place?

And then my brain turns back on and I remember what they were doing just two seconds ago. Kissing.

Aria Montgomery is having an affair with her English teacher.

I actually let out a laugh, then clap my hand back over my mouth, shaking my head in disbelief. Last year a teacher at a high school a few towns over had an affair with a student, and it was all over the news for months.

I sit on the ground, turned away from the car, and pull my knees up to my chest. Should I tell someone about this? Obviously a student dating a teacher is against school policy. But I’m not really sure this is my business. And anyway, what if I completely misread what was going on? What if this is a one time thing? It doesn’t really look like it, but the last thing I want to do is spread some rumor before I know it’s true.

I feel like that one beer might make a reappearance. It’s too late and I’m too tired to think about this more tonight. I’ll decide what to do tomorrow morning, after the party.

I stand up to leave and shoot one more glance behind me at the car, just in time to see a figure appear out of the trees across from me. Though they don’t seem to see me, I drop back to my knees and peer through the branches.

Whoever this is wearing one of the hoodies that were passed out in the gift bags. The hood is pulled up around their face. They run right up to the back of the car and it looks to me like they write something on the steam on the back window.

I stare, mesmerized. This night could not possibly get any crazier. Then the person straightens up and glances around before taking off back into the woods.

It’s Noel.

I take back my previous statement.

Maybe I really am drunk, I wonder as I stumble back toward the party, wanting to get away from this situation before anything else insane happens. My head is spinning as I trip on a root and literally fall back onto the campgrounds.

I watch everyone else laugh and drink and have a generally carefree time while I’m sitting on the biggest secret of my life. If anyone else finds out about this, Mr. Fitz could be fired and Aria could get a reputation way worse than just “artsy.”

But someone else _does_ know, I realize as I plop down on a tree stump in a daze. Noel knows. And as hot as he might be, he’s also one of the biggest jerks in school. There’s no way he’s going to let this go.

I’m not sure how long I sit there, dwelling on all of this, before Mona appears out of nowhere and pulls me up. She’s crying. “What? What’s wrong?” I ask, trying to remove myself from one crisis and prepare myself for another.

She grabs my hand, shaking her head. “Hanna just got hit by a car.”

“ _What?_ ” I can hear sirens in the distance, and by now it seems like this news has spread. People are running toward the parking lot. “Oh my god.”

We run along with everyone else. The parking lot is mostly empty aside from a few parked cars. The ambulance has arrived and Hanna is being strapped onto a stretcher. She appears to be unconscious. My gasp turns into a sob halfway through.

Most of the kids from the party have made a wide arc around the ambulance. Spencer, Aria, and Emily stand in the center of it, hugging each other and sobbing. My stomach is churning. “Who hit her?” I cry, looking around.

“I don’t know, I didn’t see it happen,” Mona says, not meeting my eyes. “Spencer said it was a hit and run.”

“Oh my god,” I say again. My headache has returned. I clutch the pearl on the end of my necklace, and I suddenly realize that Hanna was the one who gave it to me, for my last birthday. I’m pretty sure she shoplifted it, but still. It’s the thought that counts.

Everyone collectively watches the ambulance until it disappears around a corner. I shudder and begin to trudge back to the party, wiping tears from my eyes. Hanna will be okay. She has to be. I mean, no one’s ever actually died from being hit by a car, right?

By the time I get back to the campsite, I’ve decided that there’s no way I can stay overnight here. I grab my bag and my jacket and am just about to text my mom to pick me up when my phone dings with a new text message.

Maybe my mom heard about the accident, I think as I pull out my phone. Maybe she’s on her way here now.

But it’s not her. The text is from a blocked number, labeled “Unknown.”

_Uh-oh, Viola! Looks like you saw something you shouldn’t have! Don’t spill their secret, or I’ll spill yours. –A._

I stare at the screen. _A?_ That was the same person who sent Mona that text about Hanna’s liposuction. But this message seems more like an actual _threat._

My vision blurs around the word “secret.” I stumble back and sit on a log, turning my phone over and clutching it in my hand as the memory comes back to me.

…

  _I knew that the party was going to be a bad idea before I even got to Sean’s house. There were way too many cars lined up and down the street, and I could hear the thumping bass of the music when I was a block away. There was no way that there wasn’t going to be a million juniors and seniors at this party. Maybe even some kids from Hollis._

_But there was also no way that I wasn’t going anyway. An upcoming freshman being invited to a high school party, even a sophomore one, was basically unheard of._

_The house was packed with people. Aside from some of the sophomores, I barely recognized anyone. Mostly there were kids that looked like they were around sixteen or seventeen, but when I walked into the kitchen I spotted Sean’s older brother and a whole bunch of people who must have been in their early twenties. I recognized Melissa Hastings, Spencer’s older sister, standing with her boyfriend from high school, Ian Thomas. I grimaced. Back before he graduated college, Ian had spent summers helping coach middle school field hockey, which I played between sixth and seventh grade. All of the other girls on the team had had huge crushes on him, but I’d always found him creepy._

_Ian glanced away from Melissa and gave a quick smile and nod in my direction. I thought for a second that he was looking at me, but turned away and spotted Alison and her clique standing in the doorway. She was in the very front, as usual, with her posse assembled around her._

_Alison generally never paid much attention to me, probably because I was a year younger than her so officially insignificant, but that night she walked right up with a big smile, holding a red cup in each hand. “Hey, Viola.”_

_I resisted the urge to punch her and forced a smile. “Oh, hey Alison. Hey guys,” I called back to the others, who looked generally just as uncomfortable at this party as I felt._

_“Here.” She held out one of the cups to me. “I saw you empty-handed and grabbed you a drink.”_

_I took it carefully, trying to decide the likeliness of her poisoning it. She raised her eyebrows at me so I took a sip. I wasn’t sure what I had been expecting, but it definitely was not the sour taste of beer going down my throat. I held back a cough._

_Alison glanced at me, then at Ian, and smirked. “He’s so hot, isn’t he? Don’t you think, Spence?” she said to Spencer, who was standing to her left and a little farther back. There was something in her tone that seemed a little off._

_Spencer scowled at her, crossing her arms. “Cut it out, Ali.” Aria, Hanna, and Emily exchanged confused glances._

_I felt something pass between Alison and Spencer and decided that I’d better get out of here. Anyway, hanging out with Alison DiLaurentis was not how I’d planned to spend my first official big party._

_I tried to squeeze between them without being noticed, but Alison put a hand on my arm to stop me. “Why don’t you hang out with us tonight?” she asked, smiling. “You really could use a better influence.”_

_The best thing to do around Alison was to bite your tongue, but by this point I really didn’t care anymore. “Maybe I do,” I snapped, stepping closer to her. “Too bad there’s not one around here.” I drained my cup of beer in one gulp and threw it at her feet, then pushed between Aria and Emily and hurried out of the room._

_My head was pounding with adrenaline, and I was aware that more than a few people were looking at me. No one ever seemed to stand up to Alison, not even people close to ten years older than her. I was terrified, but I also felt a little invincible._

_That might have just been the beer talking, though. That had been my first one, ever, and it had tasted horrible, and now the hallway was spinning around me, but even all of that couldn’t put an end to my high._

_Until half an hour and two more beers later, that is._

_My head was pounding in a different way. All of the adrenaline had worn off into the new feeling that I was going to throw up. The realization that I needed to find a bathroom hit me all at once._

_I stumbled through the den and kitchen, heading to the hallway leading to the downstairs bathroom. I was nearly to the doorway when I stopped in my tracks. Alison and the other girls were standing in the doorway, huddled together. I froze. My confrontation with Alison had felt great, but now that I was officially drunk, I wasn’t sure if I could handle another one._

_I turned and hurdled through the crowd of people before she could spot me, and headed upstairs instead, gripping the railing tightly. Suddenly this party wasn’t so much fun anymore. I should have just stayed home and watched a movie with my mom and sister._

_There were several doors to my left and right at the top of the stairs. The first door to the left was open, so I hoped desperately for a bathroom and plunged inside, flicking on the light._

_It was not a bathroom. It was a bedroom. Even more mortifyingly, it appeared to be Sean’s parents’ bedroom. The only thing making this not completely terrible was the fact that at least it was empty._

_I started to turn and return to my search when my vision started to spin too badly for me to take another step. I plopped down on the edge of the bed and groaned into my hands._

_The dizziness was just starting to subside when I heard a voice from the doorway. “Everything alright in here?”_

_I took a deep breath to steady myself and looked up. Ian stood in the doorway, looking even taller and more muscular than usual. “Viola,” he said in surprise, dropping his arms to his sides. “Everything okay?”_

_My throat suddenly went dry. I coughed and swallowed hard, then choked out, “Uh, yeah, I just…I’m a little…”_

_“Ah, I get it,” he chuckled, moving farther into the room and sitting beside me on the bed. “First big high school party, huh?”_

_I shifted away and nodded. He laughed. “Oh, geez, I remember my first time. I got so drunk I ended up falling asleep on the ping-pong table.”_

_Obviously this was supposed to be funny, but I wasn’t really in the mood for jokes. All I wanted was to go home, but I wasn’t even sure I had the strength to move. Ian smiled and put his hand on my shoulder. For some reason, he didn’t seem to be giving me the same creepy vibes that he usually did. I almost felt a little safer with him there._

_“It’ll be alright,” he said quietly. “You’ll sleep heavy tonight, and tomorrow will be a little rough, but you’ll be alright.” He stood, walked over to the door, and closed it quietly._

_I bolted upright too quickly. The dizziness flooded back. “Why did you do that?”_

_He gave me a concerned look. “You don’t want anyone else to see you like this, do you?”_

_“No,” I replied, because that was definitely the truth. “I don’t.”_

_He walked back over, this time kneeling down in front of me. “Maybe this’ll make you feel better,” he whispered, and pressed his lips to mine before I could react._

_I pulled away and gaped. That had just been my first kiss, and I wasn’t even sober enough to enjoy it. The logical part of me was screaming to run, to fling open the door and not look back, but the drunk part of me couldn’t stop thinking that Ian was much better looking than I had ever realized before._

_“See?” He grinned a little crookedly. “Your color’s back already.” He stood and pulled me toward him, kissing me again, this time a little harder._

_This was wrong. This was all so wrong. And what was even more wrong was that I couldn’t help but enjoy it. It helped that Ian could easily still pass for a college freshman. Imagining that made this whole situation significantly less weird._

_His mouth moved to my neck and his hand slid under the back of my shirt. I did not mind at all until I felt his grip slide a little lower than just the small of my back._

_“Wait,” I gasped, pulling my lips away from his. “This – “_

_He pulled me back toward him, aggressively enough to shock me into silence. I felt his hand pull the strap of my tank top off my shoulder, my bra strap going with it._

_It wasn’t until the other strap was off that I realized all at once what was happening._

_“Ian,” I cried out, struggling. “Stop it.” My arms were pinned to my sides and he kissed me again, although this time I was far from any enjoyment._

_I was fully aware by this time. It was like fear had replaced any sense of being drunk. Anger began to take over, and I mustered all of my strength and wrenched my arms free, placing my hands on his chest and pushing him away._

_He grimaced, looking put out for a moment. “What the hell are you doing, Viola? Isn’t this what you wanted?”_

_“No!” I cried, hastily pulling the straps of my tank top back on before everything was revealed. “Not at all!”_

_He grabbed my hand, pulling me back toward him, but I wrenched myself free and grabbed the doorknob, practically vaulting myself into the hallway and down the stairs._

_People shouted slurred insults at me as I shoved past them, sloshing their drinks, but I was barely conscious of anything, running until I was out on the street and two houses down._

_I finally slowed to a stop, my thoughts catching up to me. Ian Thomas had just forced himself on me. He would have full-out raped me, if I hadn’t gotten away._

_I rubbed the goose bumps on my bare arms, standing in the center of the sidewalk. The word “rape” repeated in my head until I couldn’t take it anymore, and slid right to the ground, sobbing._

_…_

I shudder involuntarily, the text running through my head. That _has_ to be the secret that “A” is talking about. I told absolutely no one about what happened to me that night, not my parents, not my sister, not any of my friends. I knew that I shouldn’t have kept it to myself, but I couldn’t handle saying the words out loud.

But someone knows. And that same someone is threatening to tell everyone.

My shudder turns into full-out shaking. But who can possibly know this? Was someone watching that night? Did someone see what happened? As far as I know, the only two people who know are me…and Ian.

But Ian can’t possibly be “A,” can he? Why would he wait so long to hold this over my head? And why would he care at all about Aria and Mr. Fitz?

My first instinct is to dial 911 and tell them all about this message. I’m pretty sure threatening people over texts is not considered okay by the law. But, once again, the more illogical part of my brain stops me.

Do I really want people to know that Ian forced himself on me? I mean, yes, he is an adult and I was fourteen at the time. But in Rosewood, that doesn’t matter. Last year, an eighth grader was caught making out with a freshman at Hollis College. She’s been called a slut ever since.

I’ve worked pretty hard to keep up a good image and stay off the radar. I really don’t need any labels like that on me.

I glance once more at the message and stand up from the log, brushing back my hair and trying to smile. No one needs to know about this. It’s not like I have to actually do anything to keep my secret. I just have to keep my mouth closed.

I can do that. I’ve been doing that my whole life.

**Author's Note:**

> This whole story is uploaded on FanFiction, but I've stumbled across this site and I've really liked what I've seen here. So here' my contribution! Since I have this whole story written and edited, I'll try to get a chapter up every day, or every other day. Let me know what you think~


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